


it's hard to be the one who stays

by bourgeoiscat (orphan_account)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5060503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bourgeoiscat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A The Time Traveler's Wife!AU. Many different snapshots of their life together, from their first meeting to their last, not in chronological order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chanyeol wakes up in the middle of the night. 

He pushes the covers away, sitting up, and Miso pads over, resting her jaw onto his knee. She snuffles once, twice, and looks up at him with her big, brown eyes. Chanyeol chuckles, and scratches her softly under the chin.

The radio is still on, playing staticky music from the 70’s, and he reaches over to turn it off, plunging the room into a silence only broken by the constant patter of the rain on the roof. The digital clock makes a quick, sharp noise. It reads 3.00AM. 

‘It’s raining, Miso.’ Chanyeol says, smoothing a thumb over her furry forehead. She follows him when he walks over to the patio door and whines, pressing her wet nose against the cold glass.

‘You’ll get wet.’ Chanyeol says disapprovingly, but he slides the door open to let her out anyway. The rainwater spills in, wetting his toes and the floor, and he quickly slips outside, sliding the door shut with a loud clack. 

By the time he’s settled himself down on a dry section of the patio, Miso is already trotting back up the steps, fur heavy and wet. She shakes herself dry and plops down beside him, resting her jaw neatly onto her crossed paws. 

‘Did you have fun?’ 

Miso sneezes, before grinning toothily in reply. Chanyeol scratches her behind the ear, and they sit together in silence for a while, watching the rain fall. It’s only when he’s about to fall asleep, head angled uncomfortably on his shoulder, that Miso whines softly, low and sad. She’s looking at the empty rocking chair, the lone piece of furniture on the patio. 

‘I know, girl.’ Chanyeol says, quietly. He picks up Jongin’s pillow and gives it a fluff before setting it carefully back down. The two puppies embroidered in it’s center smile brightly back at him. 

‘I miss him too.’


	2. (Chanyeol is 7, Jongin is 31)

‘Do you like it?’ Chanyeol asks, biting his lips nervously. 

Jongin looks up from the sandwich, eyes curving into crescents. ‘It’s really good, Chanyeol. Thank you.’ 

Chanyeol beams, pleased. Jongin had said he was hungry last time, and well, Chanyeol wanted to make sure he wasn’t this time around. He opens the picnic basket and carefully takes out a flask, filled with his mother’s hot tea. A bit of it spills when he pours it into a paper cup, but he manages to hand it (clumsily, shyly) to Jongin. 

‘Here,’ He says, watching the other curl his hands around the cup. ‘It’ll warm you up.’ 

Chanyeol watches him take a sip, hands clutching the flask tightly. His heart swells a bit with pride when Jongin makes an appreciative noise. 

‘I know this tea,’ Jongin says, setting the cup down. ‘You make it for me all the time.’ 

‘I do?’ 

Jongin grins, and taps him lightly on the nose. ‘Yes, you do.’


	3. (Chanyeol is 17, Jongin is 28)

Chanyeol pulls Jongin closer against his chest, long arms winding around his waist. He hit his growth spurt two years ago, shooting up like a weed to five foot nine, and he’s not showing any signs of stopping. Like his father, he’s long-limbed, lanky, and pale. It makes him a hazard on the sports field, but it also gives him the advantage of being taller than Jongin. 

Chanyeol’s not used to it. He’s always been shorter, smaller, and chubbier. Always struggling to wrap his arms around Jongin’s waist, to reach up and wind his arms around his neck. But it’s different now. And as much as it is new, he loves it -- fitting his large palms against Jongin’s cheek, pulling him close against his chest, and burying his face into Jongin’s hair, breathing in the mild scent of his lavender shampoo. (What he loves even more though is the way Jongin has to stand slightly on his tiptoes to give him a kiss.)

He knows Jongin loves it too. 

‘Jonginnie,’ Chanyeol murmurs, grazing his lips softly against the shell of Jongin’s ear. ‘Are you happy?’ 

Jongin hums contentedly in reply, before turning his head to press a brief kiss against Chanyeol’s chin. His lips are dry against Chanyeol’s skin, but the sensation warms Chanyeol’s body all-over. It gives him a drop of courage, and slowly, hesitantly, he slides a hand down from Jongin’s waist to his upper thigh, squeezing lightly. 

The reaction is instantaneous, and not quite what he hoped -- a chuckle, and hands prying his own away. 

‘What are you doing?’ Jongin says, turning around to face him. His eyes are alight with amusement. Chanyeol drops his gaze to his lap out of embarrassment. 

‘You know what.’ 

‘Oh, and what’s that?’ Jongin says, smiling. He tilts Chanyeol’s head up gently, thumb soft against his chin. ‘Look at me, Chanyeol.’

‘No.’ Chanyeol says, almost pouting. 

‘Please?’

Chanyeol lets out a little huff, but does look up. Jongin hasn’t stopped smiling, but it’s no longer teasing. More fond, and affectionate. He cups Chanyeol’s face. 

‘Do you want me?’ Jongin asks, voice soft and low. Chanyeol’s cheeks warm, and he looks away again. But he doesn’t forget to nod -- he won’t deny it. He’s always wanted Jongin. Somewhere, deep down inside of him, he’s always known and he’s always waited. 

Jongin doesn’t reply immediately, his brown eyes focused intently on Chanyeol. Chanyeol wavers, but returns the gaze, and for a moment, there is nothing but the sound of the wind dancing between the tall grass of the meadow, and the lulling sound of both their heart-beats.

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump -_

‘I want you, too.’ Jongin says. Blood rushes in-between Chanyeol’s ears. _Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump_ \-- 

They lean towards one another, softly, slowly, and it’s Jongin who fits his lips against Chanyeol’s. His heartbeat skyrockets. The air is warm and sticky between them, but it feels good, even when Chanyeol doesn’t quite know what he’s doing. He’s never kissed anyone proper -- only soft, chaste kisses with the girl next-door in his father’s barn. Not like this. 

But Jongin guides them, gentle and unhurried, and Chanyeol lets himself follow the movement of his lips, the wet slide of his tongue. He feels dizzy, light-headed, the same way he felt when he had three shots of soju on a dare, liquid-hot down his throat and in his belly, but this is even better and he finds himself moving closer, wanting more -- 

Their hips align when Jongin settles into his lap, straddling his thighs, and Chanyeol can’t help but rock up, hands fisted tightly in Jongin’s shirt. Jongin pushes down in return, searching for friction, and together they find a rhythm, rolling their hips against one another’s in slow, languid movements. It’s good, really good, and absolutely nothing like he imagined because it’s so much better -- Jongin real and soft, with red, wet lips and half-lidded eyes, slowly thrusting against him. 

‘Jongin -’ Chanyeol pants, mouth open against Jongin’s, and he’s coming, pleasure white-hot like liquid metal running down his spine. He slumps onto Jongin’s shoulder, catching his breath, but it’s not long before Jongin’s desperate urgent thrusts have him coming to sense and pushing Jongin onto his back.

‘What - ’ Jongin says, looking completely dazed, sprawled out on the ground. His shirt has ridden up, his hair is mussed, and Chanyeol thinks he looks utterly beautiful like this. 

‘Please,’ He says desperately, voice hoarse. His hands linger hesitantly at the waist of Jongin’s slacks, thumb tracing the soft brown skin of his belly. ‘Let me do this for you.’ 

Jongin nods, and Chanyeol unzips his pants, hand slipping inside to wrap around his cock. It’s heavy and warm, with a pearl of pre-cum beading at the tip, and Chanyeol swipes it away before sliding his hand up and down experimentally a few times. Jongin moans automatically in response, the swell of his bottom lip caught between his teeth. It gives Chanyeol motivation to continue and he picks up speed, drinking in the pleasure-contorted features of Jongin’s face. The red flush of his cheeks and neck. The soft, aborted noise he makes when he comes. 

‘Chanyeol,’ Jongin murmurs, chest heaving. They clean up and fall asleep together, sprawled on the blanket in the middle of the meadow. When Chanyeol wakes up at dusk, Jongin is gone, leaving only behind his clothes and the lingering warmth of his body.


	4. (Chanyeol is 22, Jongin is 20)

The city library, as old and dusty as it is, is beautiful. 

Chanyeol likes visiting, not necessarily to study, but just to sit, observe, and draw. He’s made a hobby out of it — a cup of coffee, a pen and a piece of paper, and he’s all set. It helps to take his mind off things, more particularly the thesis that’s due in the next few weeks.

And so that’s what he finds himself doing today, settled comfortably in his dusty corner of the library, pen lazily sketching the old man dozing off on yesterday’s newspaper. It comes out looking a little bit funny, the man’s nose a bit too big for his face, but Chanyeol decides he likes it well enough not to scrap it. 

But as he’s drawing in the man’s wrinkles (and there are quite a lot of them), a familiar voice has him looking up from the paper. There's a man standing by the counter talking to the librarian, and without his glasses, Chanyeol can’t quite make out his face, but the outline of his body is similar, though a little more lean. 

But then he stretches, and Chanyeol’s suspicions are confirmed completely. 

Arms stretched over his head, body bent slightly to the side, and jumper riding up to expose a tiny sliver of smooth, tanned skin. Chanyeol would recognise it everywhere, anywhere -- that lithe, sexy, unintentionally seductive pose. 

The first time he saw it was when he was fourteen. Chanyeol had blushed, uneasy with the heat that had bloomed in his stomach. His sexuality then was something he had only started to explore, and well, he wasn’t quite comfortable yet with the idea of being attracted to Jongin. 

He watches Jongin take a seat at one of the tables, draping himself lazily across the desk, riveted to the book he’s just found. Chanyeol wants to go over to him, introduce himself, but he knows it’s not yet time. 

Jongin had asked him to be gentle, to go slow. _I’m not going to be the Jongin you’re used to. Remember that he’ll be younger than you._

And so Chanyeol doesn’t move from his spot, but sits, and watches. Their eyes meet for a second, and Chanyeol gives him a soft, little smile before flipping a new page on his sketchbook. He begins to draw.


	5. (Chanyeol is 24, Jongin is 22)

‘You came.’ Chanyeol says, before moving aside to let Jongin in. The latter steps into the apartment hesitantly, startling when raucous laughter erupts from the kitchen. 

‘You didn’t have to, you know. If you didn’t want to.’ Chanyeol says gently, taking Jongin’s coat. They’ve talked about this before — their relationship, how fast they want to take it — and he knows that Jongin isn’t quite ready yet. Unlike the older version of him, he’s not as confident, still shy, and almost boyishly sweet. He can’t and won’t rush this. 

‘I want to,’ Jongin says, looking at him intently. ‘I want to be with you.’ 

His voice is barely above a whisper, but the words are firm. Chanyeol turns to look at him, heart picking up pace. ‘Do you?’ He asks softly. 

Jongin nods, moving closer. ‘I do.’

Chanyeol cups his face. Their lips are barely inches apart, but he waits patiently for Jongin to bridge the gap. The kiss is sweetly hesitant, and he is careful not to push it, savouring in the soft, slow movement of Jongin’s lips against his. Jongin tastes like cigarettes, and rain. 

When they part, Jongin’s cheeks are flushed. Chanyeol’s never seen this side of him before.

‘I like your lip balm.’ Jongin says shyly, looking up at him from under his lashes. 

‘Lemon?’ Chanyeol asks, leaning closer. Jongin nods, and reaches up for another soft, slow kiss, one less tentative than the first. Chanyeol licks eagerly into his mouth and presses up against him a little more, hand coming round to cup the back of his neck. 

As they kiss, everything melts away. The noise of traffic from outside, the incessant chatter of his friends in the dining room — all fade into the periphery. Chanyeol’s senses are all centred on Jongin: his familiar, clean scent; his soft, pleased moans; the comforting warmth of his body. 

They’re together now.


	6. (Chanyeol is 25, Jongin is 24)

‘I’m sorry, it’s a bit messy.’

Chanyeol smiles at that, and takes off his shoes before following Jongin into the apartment. This is the first time he’s ever been to Jongin’s place, even though they’ve been seeing each other properly for almost a year. There’s a certain reluctance to Jongin when it comes to sharing details about his private life, and Chanyeol’s always been careful not to push, despite a decade of accumulated curiosity — he was the one who waited, after all. 

The apartment unit is one spacious room, and sparsely decorated. The basics are all there (a bed, a desk, a kitchenette), cluttered in a corner to make room for what Chanyeol assumes is Jongin’s practice space. His ballet shoes sit neatly on a giant mat, in front of a plain, floor-length mirror. 

‘Can you help me draw the curtains?’ Jongin says, setting a kettle of water onto the stove. ‘I’ll make the tea.’

Chanyeol does as he is asked, and natural light floods in, bathing the apartment in a beautiful, golden glow. The view is quite pretty too, overlooking a children’s playground and the river. He says as such to Jongin, before taking a seat at the tiny kitchen table. 

‘It’s the lemon tea you bought me.’ Jongin says, and Chanyeol nods, watching him carefully place tea bags into the two large mugs. For a small moment, Chanyeol allows himself to enjoy the domesticity of the scene. 

Jongin hands Chanyeol a mug and gestures towards the bed. ‘We can sit on the bed, it’s much comfier.’ 

They rearrange the pillows against the headboard and climb onto the mattress, settling easily against one another. A comfortable silence swells between them, broken occasionally by their alternating sips of tea. Chanyeol exhales softly. This is nice, he thinks. 

‘What?’ Jongin asks suddenly, without elaboration. Chanyeol turns to look at him, and makes an inquiring noise in response. 

‘You sighed, just now.’ Jongin says. There’s a hint of wariness in the way he regards Chanyeol. It stings just a little, but he covers it up with a small chuckle. 

‘It was a happy sigh, Jongin.’ He replies, setting his mug down on the floor by the bed before wrapping a arm around Jongin’s shoulders. ’It means I’m happy.’

‘Oh.’ Jongin says. He pauses for a bit before turning around to look at Chanyeol. There’s a hint of pleasure on his face (in the slight crinkle of his eyes, and the faint blush on his cheeks). He settles into the curve of Chanyeol’s side, head resting onto his shoulder. ‘I’m happy too.’ 

Warmth blooms in Chanyeol’s chest. ‘Good.’


	7. (Chanyeol is 27, Jongin is 26)

When Jongin gets into the car, Chanyeol can tell immediately that he’s upset. His shoulders are tense, and his face is blank. He’s also avoiding Chanyeol’s gaze, body angled towards the car door and eyes trained outside at the passing traffic. Only when they drive past their local supermarket does he finally speak. 

‘I have to quit.’ Jongin says, still looking out the window. Chanyeol doesn’t reply, and waits for him to continue. 

‘It’s been getting more frequent, and I’m scared.’ Jongin says, exhaling. His knuckles are bone-white from the tight grip he has on his leather bag. It smells like the ballet studio -- like rosin powder. ‘It’s only been luck so far. Sooner or later, I’m going to start fading during practice or in the middle of a performance. What am I going to say then?’ 

Chanyeol parks the car by the sidewalk and turns off the engine. He doesn’t want them to go home just yet. Jongin finally turns to look at him. There’s hurt on his face -- in his eyes, the crease of his eyebrows, and the set of his lips. Chanyeol doesn’t know how to comfort him. 

‘I can’t control it anymore. I had to run to the bathroom in the middle of practice, and I was gone for five minutes.’ Jongin’s voice wobbles slightly, his eyes still fixed on Chanyeol. ‘I don’t even remember where I went.’ 

Chanyeol reaches out and cups Jongin’s face, thumb brushing his cheek. His heart aches in his stead. ‘I’m sorry, Jongin.’ 

Jongin lets out a half-sob before climbing onto Chanyeol’s lap in the driver’s seat, tucking himself against Chanyeol’s chest. He’s crying now, quietly, and Chanyeol pulls him closer, tighter. Jongin’s tears are hot against his skin.

He whispers into Jongin’s hair, into his ear, into the side of his cheek. ‘I’m so sorry, my love.’

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second time writing for the fandom. Please let me know what you guys think! :)


End file.
